Sean had always enjoyed working with his hands, welding, of course, but also working with wood. Since he loved his garden and the bird-life he could attract to it, he had started making bird-boxes, from the simple and functional, to the elaborate and decorative, but there were only so many that he could put into his own garden. Family and friends had become grateful recipients of his craftsmanship and his bird-boxes had become labours of love.
For Viggo’s 50th birthday, he had paid extra special care and attention, pouring feelings that he often found difficult to express into a birdhouse, which was a lovingly crafted replica of Viggo’s rustic place in Idaho. He’d been pleased with and proud of his handiwork, but six months down the line, still hadn’t been able to give the gift to Viggo.
The first problem was that Viggo never seemed to stop moving long enough for him to really catch up. He now realized how blessed he had been to have that wonderful time in New Zealand with Vig. They had been friends and lovers and he looked back on that period and place as if it had been a dream or fantasy; as if they had truly been in Middle Earth. Of course, they had stayed in touch and even managed to get together briefly from time to time, but never again had they worked together or had the opportunity to spend more than an occasional stolen night together in a hotel.
On Viggo’s birthday, he had been in Denmark, just a short flight away and although they’d spoken on the phone and Vig had said he would be welcome, Sean’s courage had failed him and to his shame he’d made an excuse not to join Viggo’s family for the celebrations.*Bloody coward. Fine hero you are.*
The second problem was knowing where Viggo’s home actually was; where he would put the birdhouse if he ever got it.
Sean knew that Viggo had never liked living in LA and with Henry away at Columbia, he barely went to his house there. He’d always thought Viggo’s spiritual home was in Sandpoint, Idaho, far away from the lunacy, paparazzi and heartless glitter of LA and deep in the country, where he could ride and wander freely with his ever-present camera. For that reason, he had used this house, never visited, but seen in photographs and described lovingly over many long drinking sessions in New Zealand, as the model for his gift.
Now he wasn’t so sure, though, because Viggo didn’t seem to have spent time there for a while. In fact Viggo didn’t seem to have spent much time anywhere lately, jetting around the world with what seemed like an obsessive fervour and most likely wearing himself out in the process, thought Sean. *For a green bugger, he certainly isn’t taking much notice of his carbon footprint*
When they had asked Sean to present the Jameson Empire Award to Viggo on one of his short stays in London, Sean had at first been elated at the prospect of seeing his friend and then his stomach had somersaulted with nerves at the thought. It was so long since they’d actually been together and he wasn’t sure how Viggo would react or how he might have changed.
Of course, he need not have worried. His breath hitched a little, when he first laid eyes on Vig, because he was wearing his hair just like he had on set, nearly ten years ago. Even without the wig, he had been Aragorn then and now he still wore his years lightly.*Fucking Numenoreans!*
To his relief, Viggo was just the same, same crazy grin, same bear hug, same wicked sense of humour and maniacal laugh. They were on separate tables during the reception, but together for interviews and it was clear that Viggo had indulged enthusiastically in the complementary drinks, as indeed had he.
When they had posed for the Empire magazine picture with Aragorn’s sword and talked about their roles, double entendres just seemed to have crept into everything they said. Finally on stage, Viggo’s speech and antics with his goodie bag had been hilarious, but in danger of running as long as one of the Rings movies. Sean had seen it has his role to get his mate offstage before he got carried away and said anything too outrageous and afterwards, they had collapsed against each other, laughing and breathless, before sharing a cab back to Viggo’s hotel.
Weirdly, Viggo didn’t seem nearly as drunk as he’d thought, when they got into the room. The hands, which deftly divested him of his jacket and tie, unbuttoned his shirt without a fumble. There was no hesitation about the purposeful way he attacked Sean’s belt and whipped off his trousers and boxers, or when he pushed him down on the bed. The oceanic eyes glittered and changed colour, completely focused on him and his pleasure.
Surprise and gratitude had made Sean uncharacteristically passive, until Viggo had chuckled,
“So would you care to join me, or am I in this by myself?”
That had galvanised Sean into action and he had met Viggo, passion for passion, kiss for kiss, caress for caress until he had driven into Viggo’s body and they had peaked together and come down the other side, subsiding in a sweaty, sticky tangle of sheets.
As they shared a cigarette afterwards, carefully wafting smoke away from the alarms in the non-smoking room, Sean found the courage to ask Viggo how long he was staying in London.
“I have commitments tomorrow and have to fly back the day after.”
Encouraged by the regret in his voice, Sean ventured,
“That’s a shame, ‘cause I wanted you to come over to my place this time. I have a present for you – belated birthday present, actually.”
Viggo sat up,
“Oh Sean, I’m sorry, I can’t this trip. You know I’ve never, ever been to your house?”
“I know,” said Sean miserably, his eyes cast down and his fingers pleating the sheet, “I really wanted you to come this time.”
“Look, it’s going to be your birthday in what, a couple weeks? After this I have to be in Madrid to see Ariel Dorfman about this play, Purgatorio, go through the text with him and Ariadna. How about I come visit you in London for your birthday weekend?”
Sean felt his face split into a huge grin and Viggo grinned back and stubbed out their cigarette in a decorative ceramic,
“We still have some time tonight, so c’mere and I’ll give you something on approval, balance to be paid on your birthday. Okay?”
It was more than okay and in the days following Viggo’s departure, Sean tried to keep busy in his house and garden, although like a fangirl, he took time out to watch Viggo’s interviews on TV and listen to them on the radio. It was true that they had not really talked. They’d been too busy rediscovering each other’s bodies anyway and Sean was never a man of many words. Viggo, though, could usually ramble until forcibly shut up and Sean was apprehensive about his relative silence, apart from those delicious little noises he made when…..Sean smiled to himself reminiscently and applied another coat of clear varnish to the birdhouse.
True to his word, Viggo turned up on the Friday of Sean’s birthday and they jokingly exchanged bottles of Jameson’s, before settling down to eat the food Sean had ordered in. When they finally pushed their plates away, Viggo asked for the full guided tour and Sean showed him round the house, saving the garden until last.
Viggo said polite, complimentary things about the house showing interest in Sean’s bedroom and waggling his eyebrows in a lascivious way, but he was clearly most interested in the garden, so Sean took his hand and, holding his breath, told him to close his eyes and led him outside.
Now Viggo’s enthusiasm was obvious and genuine. In spite of the light rain falling, he wandered barefoot into the garden and asked Sean questions about the plants. He was delighted by the garden furniture Sean had made himself and even more so by the bird-boxes.
Feeling that the moment had come, Sean went into the shed and shyly brought out his special birdhouse, carefully wrapped in recycled birthday wrap, which he thought Viggo would approve of. Inside the conservatory, he presented it to Viggo.
“The whiskey wasn’t your real present. This was what I made you, but I wasn’t sure which of your homes you’d choose to hang it, Idaho, LA, your Auntie’s in Denmark, somewhere in Spain, maybe…….”
Viggo took the gift and unwrapped it with reverence, exclaiming in pleasure and turning it so that he could inspect every detail. Putting it down carefully on a glass-topped wicker table, he pulled Sean into his arms and kissed him thoroughly.
“Thank you, Sean. It’s beautiful and it means so much to me that ,you made it. The whiskey wasn’t your real present either.”
Sean looked around, puzzled, seeing only Viggo’s small backpack in the hallway.
“You have another present for me?”
“Sure I do and I hope you like it. I wasn’t sure for a long time, because I knew you were not sure, but now I am. All the travelling I’ve been doing these last few years since Henry left home, I was searching for my spiritual home. Now I know that I was really waiting for you to invite me here all along.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My present to you, if you want it, is that I choose to hang my beautiful birdhouse here, Sean. I want to stop running. I want this to be my home.”
Suddenly, Sean’s legs turned into wet noodles and he flopped down heavily onto a wicker couch, which groaned ominously, shaking his head in shock.
“Oh dear, I guess you need that whiskey. So what d’you think? Good idea or what?”
“It’s a bloody brilliant idea, more than I ever dared to hope for. But are you sure? I mean you’ve never settled down anywhere.”
“I’m so sure that I’d come and sit on your lap to prove it, if I figured that couch was up to it. Sure I’ll still go travelling, I’d be lying to say I wouldn’t, but I promise that I’ll always come home here to you. I want you to come with me to Idaho too sometime and see the original of your design, but my real home will always be where you are and the little birdhouse will always be in my soul.”
“Come on then and we’ll go out and hang it up.”
“Great idea, Sean. Say, have you ever run naked in the rain?”
Before Sean could stop him, or remind him that they were overlooked, Viggo had stripped off his clothes and run laughing into the garden, carrying his birdhouse.
“Daft bugger!” In spite of himself, Sean stripped off his own clothes and followed Viggo, hoping fervently that his neighbours were not at home and wondering about the silly little song Viggo was singing as he danced in the rain.
Summary: Sean likes making bird-boxes
Rated: R
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1926 Read: 730
Published: 08 Aug 2009 Updated: 08 Aug 2009